


Smoke & Water

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it is set during their trying for amnesty days, proof once more, that not all goes as our boys would like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Storm Clouds

Smoke & Water, Part One  
by Wichita Red

All morning the storm had clashed overhead, booming which such ferocity that the world below shook. The rain coming down in thick sheets, drenching the pair of men who had dared brave the storm; until even their boots sloshed with water. 

"Tell me again, why we're doing this?" Kid Curry asked. 

Not bothering to look back, as he had finally gotten his hat adjusted so the rain, was at least, no longer pouring into his jacket collar, Heyes growled, "you should know."

"Between the rain, my empty stomach, and that damn posse that's been on our tail for these past three days; I've plain forgotten why we're doing this."

Heyes ignored him, his red-rimmed eyes scanning the empty meadow they needed to cross, in order to reach the next line of trees.

Kid Curry studied his silent partner for a time, before stating, "you look like hell...you gonna answer me?" 

Heyes snorted, his mouth pulling tight.

"Well?"  
Another snort and a mocking grin appeared, "this..." Heyes motioned expansively with one gloved hand, "...all this was your idea. Wasn't I, the one who said; amnesty was for chicken thieves, land grabbers, and rag-picking, penny stealers. And, weren't you, the one who kept after me, kept after me 'till I agreed. So now, here we are years beyond the alleged deadline and still wanted. And, to seal the deal, we aren't just wanted for our own indiscretions, but also for any crime which seems to equal our names!"

Curry stood in his stirrups, his face remaining impassive as he scanned their back trail. "How long you been holdin' that in?"

Sucking in his lower lip, Heyes' eyes narrowed and slanted toward Kid. 

Settling back in his seat, Kid met the glare head on, "you think we lost'em?"

"How should I know!?" Heyes snapped. "I've tried every trick, I know. And, they've still stuck to us like pissed off hornets." He glared at the wet world around them, grumbling, "They just gotta have an Apache with 'em."

Kid's whisker stubble made a rasping sound as he scratched at his jaw, "don't be startin' that again."

In a voice an octave or two higher than his normal, Heyes screeched, "I tell you they hav--"

"Keep your voice down." Kid stated and bowing his head, he took a calming breath. When he looked up, his boyish grin was back in place, "sides it ain't my fault you're feeling so proddy."

Heyes' eyes shot wide, "Proddy?"

"Yeah, proddy." Kid chuckled, nudging his gelding forward, "and, it also ain't all my fault we're in this fix."

Heyes stretched, pushing back against the cantle of his saddle seat while straightening out his long legs in the stirrups. 

Eyeing him, Kid shook his head and moved his horse out into the drizzling rain to cross the meadow. The tall grass bent, twisting away from the animal, flattening beneath its steel shod hooves. 

Snorting and scrubbing at the back of his neck, Heyes thought, 'perfect, now we're going to lay down a trail a schoolboy could follow.' Chirking to his sorrel mare; he moved out after his partner, muttering, "suppose it ain't, really, all Kid's fault." 

Riding along in silence, they pushed on; each meadow crossing only bringing them to another grove of trees which were too small to assist in hiding their trail. Still, they were climbing ever closer to the distant, humped-backed, mountains they figured to disappear in. Their horses easy, flowing gait caused the tall grass to sway about their legs; the soft swishing sound becoming louder as the patter of rain faded and the sun came out. 

Looking back over his shoulder, probably for the fiftieth time in an hour, Heyes still saw no hint of the posse. Feeling he had outwitted them, a large smile appeared, and removing his hat, he studied its battered shape in contrast to its shiny, silver-studded band. He had purchased both back when money had flowed through his fingers as fast as he could steal it. Heaving out a sigh, that barely covered how trail worn and tired he felt; he looped the hat's stampede string several times around his saddle horn, leaving the old hat to hang there, tapping softly against his knee. Looking back again, he rubbed a hand up his forehead, pushing a line of sweat into his already wet hair. 'A shave, bath, and bed sure would feel all-mighty good,' he thought, dallying his reins about the saddle horn. Unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled it free from his beltline hoping some of him might dry out in the meager, too humid, breeze.

Seeing his partner relaxing, one side of Curry's mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin, "Don't be getting to comfortable, Heyes, I ain't so sure we're in the clear."

Raising an eyebrow, Heyes' dimples snapped into place, "I sure like it when you worry then I don't have too."

Kid Curry's smile vanished as his brow bunched tightly, "You know, when you talk like that, I ain't sure if I should say thank you or screw you."

A barking laugh exploded from Hannibal Heyes. 

Giving up his attempt at anger, Kid fell to laughing also. When the crack of a pistol made them both jump and throwing wide-eyed looks at each other, the ex-outlaws slammed their heels into their mounts. Their horses taking off in a lunge, their hooves slipping on the greasy grass, but once they found their footing they became low, moving streaks. 

Heyes' chest tightened for not only was the posse back, but they were gaining on them. 'Damn it, appears they found fresh mounts," he thought, flicking his long, split-reins from one side of his mare's rump to the other as bullets buzzed by, far too close for his own personal comfort. 

Spinning his horse, Kid released a barrage of lead, that pegged saddles and sent hats flying, all in an attempt to discourage the posse's fast pace. 

The huffing breaths of Kid's big gelding let Heyes know his partner was back alongside him and bending lower across the shoulder's of his own saddle; he expected to feel the excruciating burn of a bullet burrowing into him, at any moment. When their mad flight brought them to race along a raised ridge, shooting glance after glance at the brown, white-capped river below, Heyes thought, 'if we could reach the water, it would sweep us right out of here.' Aiming his mare down the steep slope. 'Surly, they won't be foolish enough to follow us.'

Partway down the muddy, rocky, grade his mare balked; throwing her head up, she protested with a snorting squeal. 

"Sorry girl, I know this is crazy, but its all we got left." Heyes stated, laying into her once more with the tail-end of his reins.

She danced in spot, slipped, then began moving, the mud rolling and bunching beneath her hooves. Feeling her sliding, fighting for her footing, Heyes cursed himself for what a damn bad idea this was. When a high-pierced scream rang out. His head snapped around in time to see a mist of blood spray from Kid's gelding, as the horse was being shot a second time. Heyes' mouth fell open and before he could formulate a thought; the gelding staggered sideways, crumbling.

In a bold move, Kid launched himself from the dying animal, just as it tumbled over the slope's edge. 

Whipping his mare furiously, Heyes forced her out of the path of the deadly carcass barreling toward them. As he did so, he spied a silver glint, somehow he knew it was Curry's Colt, skidding downhill in the mud and hollered, "Kid!"

Rising to his feet, Kid's muscled frame silhouetted darkly against the sky. He turned, looking to Heyes, and then back over his shoulder. He could see there was no escape...for him, and shouted, "get the hell outta here!" Snatching, his hat from the ground, he waved it toward his partner, "Go on! Get!!" Then turned his back on him with his hands raised over his head.

The excited voices of the posse floated down to Heyes but disturbingly, so did the continued cracks of their pistols firing. Muttering a curse and pulling his Schofield, Heyes kicked his mare, sending her back up the slope. Although, he could hit what he aimed at just like the Kid, he was not being as particular as his partner in choosing targets, only snapping off shots at any man who came into view. 

When a choked grunt filled the air, Heyes felt the blood pour from his face as he watched his best friend topple over the edge, the same as his dead horse had done moments before.   
Kid Curry's limp body, flopped on down the embankment like wind pushed debris until it plunged into the swollen river. His red plainsman shirt standing out like blood as the water swirled him round and round, the rolling current finally dragging him under. 

From somewhere, Heyes could hear a ragged, aching howl, never once, realizing the sound was rising from himself as he jerked his horse back toward the river. 

Jerked the exhausted animal too hard. Too fast. The mare stumbled. Her legs becoming entangled. In a heartbeat, she was down. Thrashing, struggling against the mud, and in the chaos of it all; Heyes believed his leg was going to be ripped clean off at the knee. Just as the pain filled him, blocking all other thoughts from his mind, he was thrown free. Lying there, face down in the mud, gasping for air, his first thought was, 'I have to save Kid.' Inhaling, he pushed off the ground and rolled over to the gaping, mouths of three pistols and a double-barrel shotgun. 

"If'n I was you, I wouldn't move nary an inch," drawled the man holding the shotgun. "Lessen you wanna be as dead as your partner."

Heyes' dark eyes riveted on the silver star, big as a hog's head, the shotgun holder was wearing. 

The Sheriff stared right back, barking, "Val, Charlie, Micah follow the river and fetch 'em up; even dead he's worth $10,000."

"Will do," came a quick response and Heyes heard horses moving off. 

"Now you," the Sheriff jammed Heyes with the shotgun, "go on now and show us how smart you are...by standin' up real slow."

Heyes' gaze drifted to the river, his expressive eyes becoming flat and lifeless. 

The Sheriff jabbed him, again. "Come on, move."

Forcing down a hard swallow, Heyes climbed to his feet, but even as he did, his right leg buckled, tearing from him a ragged gasp as he staggered; just catching his balance. 

"Hellfire, you gonna be able to get back up on your horse? Or, we gonna have to throw you up there?"

The left corner of Heyes' mouth rose, a deep dimple appearing, "depends if you plan on tying my hands."

"Why, hell yes, I plan on trussing' you up. Suppose though, I could hold off 'till you're on board." The Sheriff replied, his wide smile revealing a missing incisor. "Course, you should know, I plan on stayin' close enough, if'n you make just one wrong move...well, this here scatter gun ain't gonna miss an inch of you."

Heyes nodded and looking around, saw his mare a short distance off. She was standing solidly on all four feet, a rush of relief ran through him that his rashness had not lamed her. She was smaller than mounts he normally chose but she had proved plenty game and more than a little loyal. Taking a breath, he set to gingerly hobbling in her direction. 

She turned her head, whickering. 

"Come here, babe." 

She shook her head with a snort, her eyes showing too much white. 

Moving slowly, he whistled low, cooing, "come on, baby." 

Little by little he made his way to her, until he was able to wrap a caressing hand about her muzzle. Moving closer, he tugged gently at her mane to further calm her. "I'm sorry, girl, you knew better from the get go, didn't you." 

She lowered her head, leaning into him, offering her trust once more.

Scratching her ear and straightening her headstall, Heyes whispered, "Well, come on, we gotta go find, Kid." Latching hold of her neck, he stepped back on his left leg, launching himself from the ground. By passing the stirrup all together to sling himself into the saddle. A hot, searing pain shot through his right leg and through gritted teeth he inhaled loudly, sucking hard at the insides of his cheeks. After he felt he had pushed the pain back where it belonged, he bent forward using his hand to shove his boot in the stirrup.

"Nicely done." The Sheriff said, motioning to a posse member with a twitch of his head. "But, it sure does appear you've done and gimped yourself up pretty, damn good."

As this new man moved in close, Heyes considered whether the Sheriff would truly chance firing, with his posse member so close and all. But, that was when he noticed, a third man had latched hold of his mare's headstall. Then his hands were being tied to the saddle horn, his mind was racing in loping circle, 'I need a plan...I need to find, Kid....I need a plan...I need to find, Kid....' Letting his lashes droop over his eyes, he chewed hard at the inside of his lip, trying to center his thoughts. But, all he could see was Kid being shot and the river sucking him down.


	2. Smoke & Water, part two: turning up the heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes is captured but what he really wants to know is....where is Kid Curry

Smoke & Water, Part two: turning up the heat  
by Wichita Red

Humidity hung so heavy, it draped the landscape like a shimmering blanket under the glow of the hot, evening sun. The men of the posse grumbling about the heat, their shirts sticking to them like flypaper and ponied behind Sheriff Eli Carter, like some errant child, Heyes could feel his own face beginning to sunburn. 

Leaning out to get a look at his swollen knee, sweat ran down Heyes' brow, the salt burning his eyes and his gaze shifted to the crushed, muddy Stetson, still hanging from his saddle horn. 'Wish I'd put it on before they tied my hands,' he thought, wallowing some in his self-misery when his gut twisted so tight he felt like he might hurl. 'Damnation, here I am festering over my own needs, when I should have already broken free and found Kid. He needs me, I can feel it...he...he--.' Heyes swallowed hard, telling himself the lump in his throat was because he needed a drink. But, he knew better, the lump had been there growing tighter and harder, ever since he'd seen Kid catch a bullet and his body buck up against the sky. 

Sheriff Eli looked over, shaking his head, "Always heard how you ran on like a guinea hen and here we been riding a good while and I ain't heard a cluck out of you."

Licking his lips, Heyes put forth a small smile, "Sheriff, who is it you think I am, anyways?"

Eli looked straight into Heyes' face and without a hint of humor, stated, "why you're the great and wily Hannibal Heyes whose worth ten-thousand dollars."

"Me?" Heyes responded, sounding adequately surprised, "Wouldn't that be something, to be Hannibal Heyes that is? But, I ain't him."

"Oh, you are." Eli responded, pointing a finger at Heyes. "I was on a train you robbed. So was..." he jabbed the finger toward the tuberculosis, thin man riding on Heyes' other side, "..John. Fact was, we was both standing right close to you. So close, we overheard every word of that right friendly conversation you had with the Engineer. Hell, it tickled me the way you apologized, over the way the torn up rails was going to cause that Engineer's crew some back ache repairing 'em."

John grunted and spit a glob of chaw, that sailed just past the toe of Heyes' boot. "It were me who spotted you back in Shelby. I recognized you right off. Never did get me a good look at Curry, so I wouldn't know him from Moses. But, that don't matter none, 'cause, I got me a damn good look at you."

Heyes smiled larger, "I been mistaken a few times for that no good outlaw. Truth is, I would like to meet up with him, myself, and knock 'em down a notch or two. See with me, all you done caught is a married man with a sick wife and child at home. And, with this twisted leg, I am not going to be able to work hardly a lick. But, I ain't worried about me, 'cause, I been sitting here thinkin' on my cousin. I know you sent men after him, but they haven't showed. So, I figure we need to turn around and give them a hand. Hey, y'all would like my cousin, Thaddeus. He is real good man. And, I am sure he is in need of assistance. I tell you, Sheriff, you would really like him. Why Thaddeus is a good, up-right citizen. Besides, what am I to tell his bride-to-be? Wait, did I tell y'all yet, but he's fixin' to be married next week--"

John brayed out a laugh that not only spattered a spray of spittle into the air but also revealed a mouth full of decaying teeth. 

Catching a whiff of the rot, Heyes' nose wrinkled up tight. 

Seeing his reaction, John leaned over, slapping Heyes on the shoulder, "You is right funny and damn good at spinning out a yarn." Turning to unbuckle the flap on his saddlebag, John spit another slimy, stream of chaw juice, narrowly missing the side of Heyes' mare. From the bag, John retrieved a pistol. "Now, Heyes, I would never have taken a bet that you was a Schofield man. Still, I'll double-down that I can sell this piece for a pretty price. But, the real gem is..." John nodded at Heyes, shoving the Schofield away and removing a far too familiar, well-cared for nickel-plated, six-shooter.

Seeing it, Heyes' heart set to pounding. Pounding so hard, he thought the others might be able to see it moving beneath his shirt. 

"Hell, look at it. This look the firearm of fine, up-standing citizen, Eli?"

Sheriff Eli Carter shook his head, "You find it where he fell?"

"I did, well, a bit down the hill." John laughed, popping out a scrawny arm to point at the far horizon. "A true man-killers piece. Hell, I'll be able to charge a fee, a sizeable one, I don't know...maybe, to just hold it. Can you imagine the crowd it will draw? The great, dead Kid Curry's Peacemaker." Lowering the Colt, John leaned over till his face was nearly touching Heyes' "see, even a legend becomes useless when he's shot his load." Sneering, John stared hard into Heyes' face, drinking in the cold pain he saw etched there. And, placing a hand atop of Heyes' tied hands, John whispered, "I see you, Heyes, see right through." Then tucking the Colt in his waistband, John laughed, almost evilly, "So, you go right on, fibbin' to us how you ain't really Kid Curry's bestest pal in the world....Hannibal Heyes"

Lifting his chin, Heyes arched a brow and rolling out a twisted, impish grin, said casually, "now, I'm not saying, I am Hannibal Heyes or anything; however I will say...you best sleep light."As he spoke, Heyes' grin shifted becoming tight and hard as his face. "Cause, if that is Kid Curry's pistol..then he'll be coming to take it back. And, like you said, he's a real man-killer, ain't he?" 

John veered his horse away, looking left and right, almost as if he expected to see Kid rise up from the tall, prairie grass. 

Watching the exchange, Sheriff Carter snorted. He'd always seen John as a bit of bully, blow-hard and it was enjoyable seeing him cowed, especially by a wounded and bound man. But then again, this man was a legend in his own time and Sheriff Carter had no doubts, by the intimidating look on his captive's face, that he had in his hands the leader of the Devil's Hole Gang. And, thinking this he laughed, a low, warm comfortable, belly laugh. "There now Mister Heyes, that be some of the spirit, I've heard tell of."

Double-quick, Heyes' expression loosened switching to a disguise of playful, innocence, "I tell you Sheriff, you're going to have egg all over you when find out you got the wrong man. And, I pray your men find Thaddeus, 'cause that'll go a might worse for you, if he ain't found. So, why risk something like that? When we all, could turn around together and join in on the hunt for him."

The Sheriff held up his hand, "I have three capable men searching for 'em already and I am damn positive, they ain't in need of your assistance."

"But, I'm a good tracker." Heyes said, throwing out what he knew was his most charming smile. "You may find this hard to believe, but I was champion tracker of all southern Utah."

"That may be, but Mister Heyes, there ain't no way on this God's green earth that I am letting you get anywhere nears your partner. But, you can keep on weaving your tales. 'Cause, I find 'em entertainin', still..." He waved the shotgun, that he held on his thigh, at the men around them, "...we ain't followin' a word that falls from your mouth and we all plan on guardin' you like Fort Knox. See, we all know who you are and we all, also know, you've enjoyed spending piles of banknotes. But, y'alls reward is more money than any damn one of us has ever seen. So, you can be blamed sure, we ain't about to let you slip away."

Heyes' smile faltered and twisting in his saddle, he looked back; a soft frown settling around his mouth and eyes that stripped the brassy confidence from his face, revealing the fear, he felt deep in his gut.


	3. Smoke & Water, part three: surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes is left with his thoughts and an unlikely friend

Smoke & Water, Part Three: surrender

Hannibal Heyes lay with his hands laced behind his head, staring into the pitch black interior of his hat. Unless disturbed, he had laid this way for the past few days. Laid, listening to the unflagging carpentry going on behind the jail. But closer at hand, he could hear footsteps and his mouth twisted. 'Damn tired of them coming in here to inspect me like an animal on display,' he thought, as the keys clanged, and the iron gate that kept him confined, squeaked hideously; 'wish they'd oil that thing.' But, outwardly there was not the slightest hint of him being aware there was a world around him. 

"Always heard how sociable you was." Sheriff Eli Carter said, "And, how you was the blamed best there was at escaping. But hell, you ain't put up anymore fight than a half-drowned pup."

Heyes lay un-moving.

"Brought you lunch."

Still no movement. 

"It is a pure shame, how we never found Curry's body." Eli shook his head, "findin' him, might've sent you on to the Wyoming pen."

Heyes' chest tightened.

"Yeah, and..." Eli sucked at the hole left behind by his missing tooth, "well, it sure did knock me sideways when Judge Cooper declared, by all evidence presented, you had back shot and murdered your own partner as a ruse to escape. You know what ruse means?"

Heyes breathed shallowly, the lump in his throat which refused to go away tightening up. 

"Well, it means to be tricky or under-handed. I looked that up. I did. Mister Heyes you is known to be tricky, that be for sure. But I don't rightly deem Judge Cooper was thinking straight with his final verdict and all. I mean everyone knows you and Curry were thick as thieves." Realizing his pun, Sheriff Carter slapped his leg, "Whoo, that's pretty good, thick as thieves." Hooting on at his unintended humor, he swiped at his eyes and then stared at his prisoner who lie still as a body at a wake. "Anyways, what I can't figure out is. Why, if'n the Judge says you killed 'em. Then why can't me and my men be allowed to claim the reward. That whole body for proof is just bullshit. You and I both know he's dead, don't we Mister Heyes?"

Beneath the hat, Heyes had bitten so hard at the insides of his cheeks, he could taste the bitter tang of blood on his tongue. 

"Well, for what it's worth, I don't believe you murdered 'em. Sure as hell, shot'em by mistake, but not outright murdered 'em as a ruse."

Heyes clenched his eyes tight, but he could still fell hot, wetness seep into his lashes. 

"Anyways you got any final requests or anyone you wish me to telegraph?" Eli asked. 

Silence was his only answer.

Eli coughed, clearing his throat, "You best be for speakin' up, Mister Heyes, them gallows will be finished on Thursday." Bending he retrieved the breakfast tray, the coffee had been drunk and a biscuit broken, but no more. "Sure is a waste bringing you a meal." Eli commented with a snort, but went ahead and set down the lunch tray. Straightening the Sheriff, looked at the greasy bacon and cold eggs then back at Heyes and shook his head, "I tell you Mister Heyes, you...well, you've kept so silent, it's just taken all the fun out of capturin' you." Suddenly, he reared back and kicked Heyes' bunk, "You even hearin' me?"

"I've heard all you said, Sheriff."

Eli looked again at the full tray in his hand and back to the man he had heard so much about and with a louder snort, stormed out of the cell and back to the main office. 

Once the cell block door was securely closed and locked, Heyes knocked his hat from his face, sitting up. For a long moment, he studied the plate of stew and corn bread, then slowly with the toe of his boot, he pushed it away. His eyes trailed from the stovepipe of his boot over to the black hat, laying on the floor, knowing each concealed lock picks. "Why bother," he grunted. "Everyone says, I murdered Kid and he ain't come for me, so--" Dropping his head in his hands, Heyes saw Kid Curry's bright, blue eyes and laughing smile, 'there is no way I shot him, not even by mistake. If Kid is gone and everyone thinks I killed 'em...' Heyes ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, wishing his friend's image would stop haunting him. 'Damn it, Jed, damn it! I promised your parents, over their graves, I'd protect you and look what I did. It was my idea to rob that first train. My idea to join the Devil's Hole and I let you follow me there. It was my choices which made you into Kid Curry. Your death is on me and I deserve all that comes.' 

Standing slowly, Heyes tested his right knee, it felt stronger most of the soreness gone and he set to pacing his cell. With each turn he saw different aspects of his life and always Kid at his side. Although his knee had healed during these past weeks, the ache that had entered him when Kid was shot had grown, until it felt like it was crushing him. A low, guttural cry slid from Heyes and sinking to the floor, he drew up his knees, curling into the corner. Then for the first time, in more years than he could recall, he cried. The tears burned like embers on his face and he made no move to stop them. At some point, he straightened out his legs but remained as he was otherwise, wishing Thursday was already here. When the distinctive clunk of the cell block door being unlocked interrupted his thoughts. Scrambling up, he crossed his arms over his chest determined not to let the newest herd of gawkers see his pain.

From where he stood, Heyes saw there was a thin, elderly man standing alongside his new, un-wanted friend, the long-winded Sheriff.

"Mr. Heyes, I understand you have anger in your heart and yet I ask, may I sit with you? For God's mighty hand, will in due time lift you up. He cares deeply for you and on him you may cast all your anxiety."

Heyes' eyes, inky black in the low light, slid to the bible in the man's hands and his well-known dimples, became deep, dark ravines.

"Come now, young man, you must have a little faith."  
A dubious snort escaped Heyes and rubbing a hand back through his hair, he thought, 'how many times, have I told Kid, he needed to have faith. But, it was never this type of faith, I was speaking of.' 

Seeing he was not being rejected, the Reverend entered taking a seat on the unused bunk, "Eli, would you be so kind as to bring Mr. Heyes and I coffee?"

"You sure about this Reverend Traylor?" Sheriff Eli Carter asked.

Traylor set his bible in his lap, resting his hands atop it. He was frail and age spots freckled his bald head, he appeared incapable of defending himself against an irate, young girl let alone a full-grown man; especially a known outlaw. Seeing the Sheriff studying him, Reverend Traylor, smiled and looked to Heyes, "I believe him to be tenderhearted and one who is versed in being kind to another. Go now, lock the gate and favor us with coffee, if it pleases you."

Sheriff Carter tugged at his ear, swallowed, glared at Heyes, "You best behave," and turned the lock with a hard snap of the keys.

Reverend Traylor sat silently on the lumpy mattress with his head bowed and Heyes stepped further away, pushing his shoulders into the farthest corner.  
In moments, Sheriff Carter returned, with two cups of coffee, which he handed through to the old man, "I don't feel right about this, Reverend."

"You should Eli, for are we not made to be kind to one another."

"Well...if'n you say so." His gray eyes flicked to the man at the back of the cell whose mouth was stretched in a thin, tight line. "I believe, I will just stay here while you talk."

"Eli, that is unacceptable. How is a man to feel free to speak with you leering at him?"

"But, Reverend--"

"No buts Eli, you would not want someone leering at you as you opened up."

"No, suppose not." he looked again to Heyes, thinking what a docile prisoner he had been. "Well, you holler out, if'n you need me, Reverend, I'll leave the block door open."

Reverend Traylor nodded, "I will, although I am positive, I will not require your assistance."

Sheriff Carter scuffed away, throwing repeated looks over his shoulder and once gone, Reverend Traylor rose, placing the extra cup of coffee on the floor by Heyes' untouched lunch. Retaking his seat, he quietly stated, "It is said, you murdered your friend."

A firm, flat voice came from the corner, "I did not murder, my friend." 

"I believe you."

One of Heyes' eyes narrowed as he studied the old man. "Why should you believe me?"

"Why should you murder your friend?"

A shuddering almost moaning rush of air escaped Heyes. 

"Come sit." Reverend Traylor held his hand toward the opposite bunk. 

Slowly, Heyes came over sinking onto the flat mattress and reaching down, he scooped up the hot coffee cup, cradling it between his hands. "I did not murder Kid...I could not harm a hair on his head. Not really...he was the only family I had."

"He was family?"

Heyes nodded, rolling his lower lip through his teeth, "my cousin, we've been together all our lives and now...."   
"And, now you are alone."

Heyes nodded, looking into the depths of the dark liquid in his cup. 

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work. If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has not one to help him up." 

Heyes' face pulled tight, lines appearing about his eyes, his dimples pulling at his cheeks, and with a hard sniff, he stuttered, "I believe he's dead."

"Why is this? Because the courts of man have deemed it so?"

"Because, I am here and he has sent no word." Heyes replied in almost a sigh and took a long drink of his coffee. 

"Was your cousin, a good man?"

Heyes looked up, a smile softening his expression, "The best. Kid could never stand to see another suffer and would help out anyone, even at danger to himself; he would drive me crazy that way. And, he forever wore a smile. Jed was the best part of me...he made me good."

"If what you say is true, then your cousin, Jed, has been welcomed into our Father's house and he is at peace as you should be."

The soft smile twisted becoming cynical, "suppose I will be as of Thursday." 

"That is not what I meant."

"It is the flat truth of it though, isn't it?"

Reverend Traylor took a drink, "You speak true and there is no way, I can alter what is to come."

Heyes leaned over, pinching a corner off the corn bread and popped it in his mouth. The bread was sweet and moist and he felt sick eating it; to cover the taste, he took a swig from his cup. "I do not mind dying. What I do mind and I don't care if it sounds vain or not. I do not like that it will be written, that I killed Kid. I...I...loved him. And, all that will be known of us, in the end, is that I betrayed him. Is it so wrong, that I cannot wipe this one thought from my mind?"

"No, it is not wrong. My Son, in your heart, you know the truth, however, it is still painful knowing others will whisper lies."

"Whisper hell, they will shout it from the mountain tops." 

Reverend Traylor nodded and reaching across the gap seperating them, he laid a shaking, veined hand on Heyes' strong, firm one, "My sympathies, Mr. Heyes. However, such worries will soon be beyond you as you too, are soon to rejoin your family."

"Never imagined myself being hung." Heyes stated, taking another drink, "Kid and I, we never killed anyone during our robberies. Sure there are some, who wear scars of our passing, but we were never killers. There are so many outlaws, we've crossed trails with, whose hands all but drip with blood. Yet, here it is Kid who is gunned down by a posse and me who is to swing for their actions."

"I believe what you say, however, you have still broken many of the laws of man. They have thusly set their judgment against your wrongful ways. My Son, only prayers can lead you to forgiveness. How may I assist you in finding peace?"

Heyes lifted his cup, drinking until he emptied it, "You can't, I turned my back against the Lord long ago."

"He has never turned his back on you."

A corner of Heyes' smile twisted, "It was he that allowed Kid and I's families to be massacred, leaving me...a mere boy at the time, to bury them. Hell, it was right then that I turned my back on him. Cursed him for his plain out meanness. Kid, he always kept pretty silent when it came to religion. I think he secretly held on, to all we was taught, back when went to church with our parents. Not me, I cursed the Lord every time I felt up to it." Setting the empty cup down, Heyes leaned into the cold bars, laying a hand across his face. 

Reverend Traylor studied him for a time and with a cough said, "Would you let me re-christen you, Son?"

Heyes uncovered his face, "What?!"

"Let me take you down to the river and wash your sins away, allowing you to pray for your redemption."

"I see a lot of difficulties in your whole plan Reverend, but thanks for thinking of me." 

The old man stood and stepping close, placed his hands on Heyes' shoulders, "If I can arrange it, will you allow me to wash the hate from your soul?"

Heyes sat still, his dark eyes tracing the thoughtful, sympathetic face before him. After a time, he shrugged, "I suppose so."

A smile as warm as a child's laugh lit up the Reverend's face, "Good. Good....Eli, I am ready."


	4. Smoke & Water, part four: baptism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes feels the end is near, he has a lot of regrets, but at the moment agreeing to be baptized is high on his list

Smoke & Water, Part four: baptism  
by Wichita Red

In the darkening dusk, birds twittered finding roosts for the night. Shopkeeper's had closed their doors, returning home to their families and so had the busy carpenters lain down their tools. Silence settled in, Shelby wasn't the type of town to have a roaring night life. It was the reason, Heyes and Kid, had decided to lay over; never expecting to be recognized in such a quiet place. 

Rolling on his side, Heyes sighed thankful of the lull as he was weary of the never-ending sound of his death being constructed. Tucking an arm beneath his head, he thought. 'At least, it will all be over soon. No more running. No more guilt over Kid.' Then his thoughts wondered round to Reverend Traylor and he scowled, 'Why in the hell, did I agree to allow him to baptize me? It's not going to change how I feel.' Shaking his head, he flopped over on his back, grunting out, 'plain foolishness.' Exhaling deeply, he allowed sleep to creep in; even though he knew it would bring him sweat filled dreams. 

The screeching scrape of the cell block door opening, jarred him, a frown creasing every aspect of his face as he sat up thinking, 'if this is John coming in to taunt me some more, I swear, I may use my lock picks, just for the pure satisfaction of throttling that damn Deputy.' Exhaling, he stood placing his hands on his hips, watching the glowing halo of light sway toward him. 

"Mr. Heyes, oh, Mr. Heyes, the bestest news," called a voice from the darkness.

Heyes quite literally jumped forward, grabbing hold of the bars, the only thought in his mind being, 'Kid.'

The voice was revealed to be that of Reverend Traylor, who patted one of Heyes' hands, "I have been given permission to wash your sins away." 

Sucking in his lips, his dimples curving deeply into his cheeks, Heyes' chin dropped to his chest. 

"I am pleased to see you taking this seriously," Traylor said, continuing to pat Heyes' hand. 

Each pat, Heyes felt his soul whither a bit more, "He's dead. No matter what I keep trying to tell myself, I know the real truth...he is gone."

"Go ahead and open his cell." 

Heyes peeked up, one eyebrow arching sharply.

"I now it is unusual, to take you out at this time, however, Sheriff Carter feels if he must obey the Judge then he wanted this done while the town slept. Seems, he is worried his constituents will deem this a poor manner of upholding the law."

Heyes stared at the old man, his mind fumbling through excuses which might get him out of this whole pitiful ordeal. 

"Well come along now, Mr. Heyes, you did agree I should cleanse your soul. Did you not?"

Turning his hands palms up, Heyes shrugged, and from the unused bunk swiped up his battered Stetson; placing it on his head as he had thousands of times before. 

One of the deputies flanking Reverend Traylor, stepped forward, "Turn around."

Heyes did so, placing his hands behind his back. The repeated marches across to the judge these past weeks, had made the routine so run of the mill even the click of the cuffs no longer caused him to flinch. 

"Know this Heyes, I think this is a damn half-baked idea." Deputy Finch growled, then glanced sheepishly at Reverend Traylor, "my apologies, Reverend, I, well...I--."

"It is fine, Charles, I forgive you."

Once outside, Heyes tilted his head back, drinking in the dark stars dotting the sky, 'never thought, I would see them again.' 

Deputy Howard nudged him, "Sheriff says, we is to walk ya down the center of the street and ya ain't to wander close to anything ya can dodge behind and run off."

Heyes snorted, then began taking the short steps, his ankle chains afforded, as the four of them took the long walk down to the river. Raising his eyes to the sky again, he searched the bright surface of the waxing moon. Finding himself wondering, as he had many times before, 'are the dark splotches deep canyons or bodies of water.' Chewing at the corner of his mouth, he lowered his eyes to find there was a man in the street. 

A tall man with broad shoulders, his long gait confidently carrying him straight toward Heyes tense little group. 

Deputy Finch, shifted his shotgun, barking, "Step aside and move on!"

Heyes' brows bunched tight, 'It can't be...but..' as recognition sank in, he took a wrong step, tangling his ankle chains. 

Snagging hold of him, Deputy Finch hissed, "Don't be tryin' anything, Heyes!"

Heyes, though, barely heard him as the snorting laughter, he thought never to hear again, filled his ears. Shuffling on, he fought the urge to look back. In his chest, his heart was thundering against his ribs and he realized he was panting. Glancing left and right at his guards, Heyes licked his lower lip, and with a long, smooth exhale his poker face fell into place. 

Edging down the sloping river bank, Heyes allowed himself to stumble. This time, so badly, both deputies had to grab an arm to keep him upright.

"Damn, ya tryin' to drown yaself?" Deputy Howard asked, setting the outlaw back on his feet.

"No...no...I ain't. Fact being, Reverend, I've changed my mind. See, I never did learn to swim, being from Kansas and all, we didn't have much in the way of swimming holes. And..." He jiggled his restraints, "no...I do believe, I'd rather swing than drown with these on. I apologize, but I ain't getting in that black water with these chains." 

Bowing his head, Reverend Trayler clasped his hands, then with a nod, he motioned Deputy Charlie Finch to the side; where they shared a hissed conversation.

"Reverend Traylor, I still say this ain't a good ideer," Deputy Finch growled, rubbing at his shoulder that hung low in its socket. 

"But, your Sarah would agree with me, would she not?" Reverend Traylor replied firmly.

A muffled curse emitted from Deputy Finch, "Micah, lead him down to the edge and take the chains off'em."

Reverend Traylor smiled, believing fully in the goodness of the three men before him. 

When the chains fell free, Heyes rubbed his wrists, biting back a grin. 

"Shall we commence now, Mr. Heyes," the Reverend asked.

Removing his hat and tying the stampede string to his belt loop, Heyes stepped into the water. 

Each step took the pair of men deeper into the flowing river. At nearly mid-stream, the water reached above their waists; gently pushing against them, inviting them to join its journey away from the little mountain town. 

The Reverend turned looking perfectly beatific, "This is deep enough."

Heyes looked widely all around.

"Feel no fear, my Son," the Reverend stated, placing a hand on Heyes' forehead, he raised his cloudy eyes heavenward. "Lord, this night I bring to you this great sinner, who has admitted his wrongs and is shameful by the blasphemous acts he has committed. I ask for you to accept him, to cleanse his soul that has been battered and bloodied by his heinous sins."

Heyes arched an eyebrow, swallowing down the varied comments that trailed across his tongue. 

"All of us who are baptized unto Christ Jesus were baptized unto his death. Therefore we are buried with him unto death, and just as Christ rose from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life." With a nod, Reverend Traylor placed an arm behind Heyes' shoulders, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." 

Taking a deep breath, Heyes allowed the Reverend to plunge him under the water then with a spin, he pushed away, swimming fast as he could downstream. Surfacing only long enough to capture another lung full of air, as buckshot and bullets peppered the water. 

Beyond the bend, Kid flung down a hand, snagging hold of his partner, and dragging him from the cold water. 

Heyes scrambled up from the muddy shore, grabbing his cousin in an air strangling hug that lifted the gunslinger clear off his feet. Anything Kid might have to say against such treatment was inaudible in the face of Heyes' ecstatic laughter. 

Wriggling free, Kid chuckled, "Come on, let's get before we're both captured."

Wearing a smile, that could convince anyone smiling was a good idea, Hannibal Heyes leapt on the nearest horse; taking off at a break-a-neck speed after his partner.

After a time, Kid reined in his heaving, foaming horse. Standing in his stirrups, Kid searched the rocks and scraggly woods surrounding them. 

The patch of ground they were on was well trampled and just as Heyes opened his mouth to point this out to Kid, he was interrupted in mid-word by, "Hey, Heyes."


	5. Smoke & Water, Part Five: a rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the run again...is it forever

Smoke & Water, Part five: a rebirth  
by Wichita Red

Heyes' hand went for his Schofield, as up on the left, a horse came round a scrub of red cedar. Slapping his bare hip, Heyes felt weak as water and his stomach dropped out.

"Dang, glad you ain't carryin', if'n that's how you've started greetin' pals."

"Apologies Wheat, but what the--" 

Yet, Heyes did not make it much further, because a second horse appeared and he knew who it was going to be; even before the cheerful, "howdy, Heyes," was called out. 

"Hey, Kyle." Heyes replied, heaving out a sigh and relaxing back into his saddle. 

"I want you to know, Heyes, I were always behind ya. I told every last one of 'em, there weren't no way you'd really kill, Kid. Nope, not even if he'd made you madder than a tromped on rattler." 

"Appreciate that, Kyle." Heyes replied, with a nod of his head and a genuine smile.

Throwing a tight look to his partner, Wheat nudged his horse over alongside Kid Curry. "Well, it appears you up and won the bet. I sure did figure, there wasn't a chance in ten, you'd be able to get ol' Heyes out; without us havin' to shoot up that town."

Kid grinned, "Luck was on my side. Is everyone in place?"

Heyes' brow furrowed, "What's up?"

In a boastful tone, Kyle said, "Kids got 'em self a plan and we 'uns gets to assist y'all in losin' the posse." 

Heyes looked to his partner then back at the two outlaws, he considered his friends, and asked, "How'd you all get involved?"

Still searching their back trail, Kid absently replied, "I ran into them in Shelby." 

"Yeah, we was fixin' to blow that jail sky high," Kyle hooted, slapping the leg of his pants, so enthusiastically his horse took a few skittering steps. 

Heyes' slow nod, half-grin, and arched eyebrow all stated clearly, he wasn't too sure about the overall outcome of such an action. 

"Yeah, but Kid here." Wheat hooked a thumb toward Kid Curry. "He put a stop to it. Said, we all should give him a chance to come up with a less messy solution. I still deem, my plan would of worked out just fine."

"I'm thinking y'all would've wound up in the same fix as Heyes," Kid replied. 

Wheat yelped, "What?...jailed for killing a fellow gang member?" 

"Well, not jailed but maybe the second part. Besides..." Kid tapped his chest, "...he didn't kill me."

"You still sure he didn't try?" Wheat asked, hiking his chin up like he was an authority on the subject. 

"I am not having this conversation with you, again."

"But, it is one, I would like to have with you." Heyes said, crossing his arms atop of his saddle horn, looking pointedly at his partner.

"Later," Kid growled, "right now, we need to hit the trail"

The four of them took off, racing along, ducking low branches and not quite missing all of them. As they wove through the forest, Heyes found himself thinking, once more, that he wished he had remembered to put on his hat. He could feel it uselessly flapping against his thigh, even as a branch raked across the side of his face. But in short order, they were free of the trees and flying across open ground. When from the left, two more riders appeared, merging into their group. At the speed they were moving, talk was impossible, but seeing it was two more members of the Devil's Hole Gang; Heyes' grin snapped in to place ear to ear. 

The grassy plain they streamed along was tilting downwards and soon the six of them were leaping into a river. Water spraying from their horses in large arcs and Heyes found himself wondering, if this were the same river he had been baptized in earlier. The horses gained the far bank, shaking and snorting from the water and Wheat's bay shied sideways. 

"Hello, Wheat, Heyes, real good to see y'all."

"Good to see you, too, Preacher." Heyes called back.

And, he and Haig moved in with the group, the horses plunging up the steep bank. The eight of them pushing their mounts, forcing them ever upwards, creating cascading showers of small rocks that skittered down the hill, splashing into the river. When finally, they reached the summit, Kid reined in at once and pulling out his spy glass.

Watching him, feeling as winded as his horse, Heyes thought, 'why in the hell, is he checking for a posse? With this many riders, they would have to be in-bred fools to not find our trail.' Heyes mouth twisted to the side and after consideration, decided not to needle Kid about the posse and instead asked, "How'd you know, I as to be taken down to the river tonight? Was the good Reverend in on this, all along?"

Kid spared a look for Heyes long enough to grunt, "what?"

"Reverend Traylor, did he alert you? Let you know, so you could have all the boys ready tonight?"

"No, that preacher were none the wiser. Heyes, I already had plans in the works...you just changed 'em is all." Kid said, still scanning the valley below.

Heyes nodded and looking about noticed how silent the shifting horses were on the hard, bald granite top. His brow furrowed, yet again, and pointing at the hooves of their horses, he asked, "why are their feet wrapped in rawhide?" 

"Ain't it genius, Heyes?" Kyle yipped, spinning his horse in a circle, "see barely leaves a smudge. Sure will fool any tracker, cause ain't none of 'em got a distinct hoof pattern now. It were all Kid's doin'."

Staring at their mount's hooves, Heyes grunted, "Kid's idea, humph?"

"Thanks, Heyes." Kid snarled, looking over at his partner.

"I didn't mean it that way." Heyes replied, rolling out one of his larger than life grins. Although even as he did, he knew it was not going to work on Kid, the way it did others. And, by the narrowing of his partner's eyes, he could see he was correct in his thoughts. 

"You would think for a person, who has just been rescued from the gallows, you'd be a bit more appreciative." Kid said, his face shifting to an expression, which generally made others reconsider what they were doing right quick.

"Like I said, Kid, I didn't mean it that way."

"Mm hmmm, if'n you recall, security and escape was my part of the planning at Devil's Hole."

"And, you were ace-high at it, too. But, where'd you come up with this wild idea?" Heyes asked, pointing again at the horse's feet. 

"From Zeb."

"Who?"

"The trapper who pulled me from the river."

"Speaking of river--"

"Later," Kid said, slamming the eyeglass closed and kicking the black he was riding into a run. 

Flowing down the backside of the ridge, the eight horses kicked up a cloud of dust that billowed in the air. When suddenly, Lobo called out, "see y'all later." Then, with a tip of his hat, he and Kane peeled off to follow a twisted, deer trail to the opposite valley.   
Heyes found himself, wanting to ask more questions. Like why were they leaving? Where were they all-headed? And, more...but as before, they were moving too fast for casual chatter. 

As the embankment leveled out, they took up a beaten track, picking up speed with every hoof beat. When all at once, Kid whistled and holding up a hand, he eased his horse down. The others followed suit, for there before them sat Merkle and John, upon their horses, holding the leads to six more.

As one the outlaw gang, swung down, stripping saddles from their sweaty, dripping mounts. In what others might consider record time, they had their replacements tacked up. But, for the Devil's Hole Gang, it was nearly second nature; as Kid often had extra mounts stationed along an escape route. It was one of his preferred tricks for out-distancing a posse. 

Untying his hat from his belt loop, Heyes took a moment to reshape it, before swinging into his saddle. As he worked the old Stetson over; he saw the hooves of these new horses were also wrapped and with a shake of his head, thought, 'got to admit, it is genius.'

Merkle gathered up three of the tired horses, with John taking the remainder, and hollered, "see y'all at the hole," then the pair of them split, going in separate directions. 

After tightening the tie down on his Colt, Kid pointed toward a rocky trail, "Kyle, you and Wheat head on that way. Hank, Preacher move out to the south." 

"Will do, Kid and if'n the good Lord, keeps an eye on you both then we'll be seeing you right soon." Preacher answered, waving back over his shoulder to Heyes and Kid.

Tugging his hat down firmer, Kyle looked at Wheat then back to Heyes and Kid, "Is y'all comin' for a visit?" 

Releasing one of his larger grins, Heyes replied, "I expect we will."

Wheat eyes squinted becoming as pinched and bitter as the glare he slid Hannibal Heyes way.

"Just a visit."

"That'd be good, 'cause they all look to me now."

"As they should." Heyes answered, the smile never faltering. Truth be told it grew even bigger and seeing it do so, Kid looked down shielding his expression behind his hat. Because he knew, his partner was speaking as much truth as the professional con-artist he was. 

Grunting, Wheat kicked his horse and with Kyle right behind him, they disappeared in a clatter of hooves. 

Watching them go, Heyes shook his head then feeling his cousin's hand on his shoulder, he looked over, "I tell you, how damn good it is to see you."

"You too, pal."

"So, what happened with you?"

"Later, we need to get moving."

"You been saying that, since you pulled me from the water."

Kid grinned, urging the sorrel, he was now riding, out across the hard rock of the plateau. 

Once they were able to ride along side-by-side, Heyes said, "Slick plan, that posse will never be able to figure out which set of prints to follow. Well done, partner."

Kid's face shifted in to a large grin, the same large grin, Heyes had gotten from his every since, Kid had gotten big enough to toddle about in his shadow. 

"So, when are we turning toward the Hole?"

The smile disappeared, "I wasn't planning on it." 

"Why not?"

"Why should we?" Kid whoa'ed his horse, turning to look straight at his cousin. "It hasn't been our home for a couple of years now." 

"Might be time, to start thinking of it that way again." Heyes rubbed a hand beneath his chin, "Boy, that is gonna twists some knots into Wheat's tail."

"Why would you want to go back, after all we've done to garner the Governor's attention."

Pushing his hat back, Heyes tilted his head, his tongue flicking out over his lower lip, "Uh, Kid our amnesty is shot to hell."

Resting a forearm across the shoulder of his saddle, Kid leveled a gaze on his partner which clearly said, talk to me. 

"You are dead and I am the one who murdered you...do you not see how that would destroy our chances at amnesty?"

"Heyes, you fully explained to me in the past, how wrong it's for me to walk around letting others take the blame for my death. Now, do you think, I would leave you, of all people holding the arrest warrant?"

A smile played on Heyes mouth then exploded, lighting up his face all the way to his dark eyes.

"Nope, I plan on righting this." Kid sat up straight, gathering his reins. "We're circling back to Shelby."

Heyes shook his head, "What kind of loco scheme you got cooked up?"

"Not much, I was hoping you might help me out there, partner."


	6. Up in Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say revenge is best served smoky or is it cold?

Smoke & Water, part Six: up in smoke  
by Wichita Red

For the past week, Heyes and Kid had camped on the ridge above Shelby, putting their feet up and watching the sleepy town from afar. It hadn't taken long to learn the routines of the townsfolk and more importantly that of the Sheriff's Office. 

The second day, had been amusing, for this is when the road weary, disgruntled posse had trailed back in empty-handed. Heyes had pointed out, Deputy John Hickman, as the one who had Kid's prized Colt. Although, as he did this, he had not expanded on how much pleasure John also took in tormenting him about Kid's death and him being the low-life who had killed his own partner. 

Last night, when the Sheriff and Deputy Hickman had hauled a couple of drunks into the brig. Kid had said, they would be good cover, allowing them to surprise the lawmen. But, Heyes had shook his head against the idea. He found he had no ill feelings toward Sheriff Carter and did not want to set the record straight by knocking him down. But, Deputy John Hickman that was another matter all together.

And, now that chance had arrive. Heyes stood, when he saw Sheriff Carter wave good-bye and step off the porch of his office. As the man sauntered along the boardwalk toward his home, through the late orange glow of the setting sun, Heyes' smile grew large. And, slipping through the trees, he found Kid half-asleep, his back to a large ponderosa pine. "Pssst...."

The gunslinger came alert, no evidence of sleep grogginess hanging on him.

"It's time."

"Only Hickman there?"

Heyes nodded, smiling, but it was not the type of smile to ease a person's way of thinking. 

The purple gloom of dark was blanketing them as they tightened the cinches and swung aboard their horses.

"You realize, I could do this alone, Heyes."

"But what would be the fun in that?"

"It'd be safer."

Heyes shrugged, "I want to see the look on Hickman's face." 

Kid tilted his head at his partner, raising an eyebrow.

Kicking his horse, Heyes pointed the gelding toward town, ignoring what Kid was leaving unsaid. 

Shelby had rolled up its streets at dusk and with it being Sunday, they were even more empty than usual. The moon peeking over the far trees cast pale, short, shadows of Heyes and Kid across the ground, where they rode along behind the buildings. As they neared the jail, the scent of new wood filled their noses and before them stood the gallows, stark and ghastly in the weak light. 

Kid's brows dropped, his blue eyes crawled across the structure, "gives me the chills."

The corner of Heyes' mouth turned down, his nose wrinkling in synch with the arching of his eyebrow and swinging down, he tied his horse to the gallows hand railing, "Makes a fine hitching post though."

Kid snorted, hopping down and hitching his horse alongside his partners.

Walking up the alley between the Jail and the neighboring building, Heyes glanced back at his partner. Both of his dimples were creased deeply and his eyes sparking with mischief. Kid took a steadying deep breath, because he knew his partner was fixing to make this entertaining for himself, which meant he needed to be on guard. 

"Wait here." Heyes said, pointing to a spot just outside the door. Twisting the door knob hard and fast, he leapt in with his pistol pointing straight at the desk. 

This so startled John that he yelped, his arms shooting out, sending his coffee cup flying from the desk to spatter the wall and floor with its dark fluid. 

Heyes drawled, "good to see you." 

John Hickman, looked all about him as if he expected there to be someone else in the room, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, thought you might be missing me." 

"Your off your rocker showing up here." John growled, his hand slipping toward the edge of the desk. 

"Uh huh, I wouldn't be doing that." 

John froze, his gray eyes narrowing, "What do you want?"

"My gear and..." Heyes' eyes slanted toward the door, his grin growing, more boastful if one could describe a grin that way. "...I thought you might like to meet my pal."

And, in stepped Kid Curry.

John's eyes flew wide, "You ain't...can't be..he's dead."

Then Kid's pistol was in his hand before either John or Heyes saw the movement and he took a step closer to the desk, "Now a man always shoots a mite better with his own sidearm, but do you think, I could nail you right through that badge?"

The whole scenario upset John so much, that the tips of his fingers turned white where they pressed into the top of the desk. 

Watching his partner, Heyes' smile softened into one of complete satisfaction. 

"Walk on out here. Just think strong on not making any moves that might excite me." Kid stated, in the icy voice he used when he wanted others to back down and show their bellies. 

As John inched around the desk with his hands, well above his head, his holster came into sight and in it hung Kid's Peacemaker. Stepping forward, Heyes plucked the Colt from the skid, "Told you, he'd be coming to take this back." Slipping the gun, behind his back, Heyes tucked it into his beltline. But as he did so, his jaw tightened, his lips pursed tight and his eyes became darker than the night outside.

"Heyes..." Kid warned.

But even as Kid spoke, Heyes' mouth twisted, his left dimple flickering like a sheet snapping on a clothes line, and his balled up fist landed in the center of John's face. 

The Deputy absorbed the blow and quivered back-and-forth on his heels before crumpling to the floor, blood streaming from his fractured nose. 

Heyes loomed over him, both fists tight. 

Softly, Kid said, "Heyes." 

This time his partner exhaled, pushing his hat back on his head, "John, anyone ever tell you, taunting a man when he is down is the lowest form of humanity."

"Humanity???" John blubbered, smearing the blood across his face with the back of his hand. "What's humanity?"

Hannibal Heyes rolled his eyes and snorted out a short laugh, "Never mind. Where is my gear?"

"Sheriff put it in the safe." John pointed toward the corner, "You can beat me all you like, I ain't got the combination."

Kid broke out into a warm laugh, "Damn, Heyes, what you gonna do, no combo and all?"

"Sure don't know." Heyes laughed, striding over to the safe and nestling up to it. 

Kid realized the front door was hanging a touch ajar and he kicked it shut with his boot. It banged in the frame and Heyes threw a twisted sneer at his partner, who only shrugged his shoulders, but his brows dropped low over his eyes in a way each of them understood was an apology. 

Snuggling back in, Heyes ran the dial slowly, feeling each infinitesimal motion the metal made. His teeth drug in his upper lip, letting it slowly slip free, the dial moving, moving then the grin began to rise and he reached for the handle. The click of the door opening was loud in the silent room. Digging out his saddle bags, jacket, boot knife, and holster, Heyes asked, "where's my Schofield?"

John's eyes darted to Heyes and back to Kid standing over him, "I...uhm...I sold it."

"You really did!?" Heyes asked.

"Yeah, figured it would go down in value once you were labeled a back-shooter." His eyes flicked again to Kid, "So, I sold it right off."

"How much did you get for it?"

John swallowed, "a hundred."

"That all?" 

A barking laugh exploded from Kid, earning him a sour look from his cousin.

"Well, you were brought in for murdering your partner. People didn't like that much." John said. 

"But, like I kept saying," Heyes pointed at Kid, "I didn't murder him." Putting his hands on his hips, Heyes shook his head, "Well, fork it over."

"What?" John gasped, pushing a bit away. "I ain't got that much left."

Kid kicked him in the sole of his boot, "Stand up and empty your pockets."

Doing as he was told, John peeked over at the outlaws, "I thought y'all only robbed banks and trains, not citizens."

Popping him on the side of the head, anger darkening his eyes again, Heyes barked, "We ain't robbing you. You owe me the price of a Schofield. What do you think they go for now, Kid?"

Kid tilted his head to the side, "Seventeen..twenty dollars."

Removing thirty dollars from John's wallet, Heyes winked at him, "need some cartridges and a drink or two, you don't mind do you?"

"That's fine, Mr. Heyes."

"Oh, it's Mister now." Heyes sucked in his lower lip, his fists bunching up again. 

Kid coughed and when Heyes looked into his blue eyes, Kid shook his head.

Snagging a pair of handcuffs from the hook on the wall, Heyes jabbed John's thin chest, "Turn around." 

Hanging his head, John turned, allowing himself to be manacled. 

"Let's store you away." Heyes said, picking up the large ring of keys from the desktop. Slipping the thickest one in the cell block door, he pushed it open. The metal door screeched hideously and Heyes' dark eyes squinched up so tight they disappeared. "uh huh..." he muttered to himself and went to rummage in his saddle bags. Returning with a small oil can which he studiously applied to the hinges. Standing back, he swung the door open and closed. It glided soft as a feather on the wind, not a sound from it and a content laugh rolled from him, "finally."

Through it all, John and Kid stared at him, Kid's face pinching up in confusion, "sometimes I really don't understand you."

Heyes winked at him with a large smile, thinking of how tired he had gotten of listening to that screech.

Slipping the oil can in the pocket of his tan jacket, Heyes walked on down the hallway with Kid herding John along behind him. 

"This looks like a good spot." Heyes said, opening the door to his own jail cell. 

As John walked by, Heyes stopped him and pulled the man's bandana off, retying it about his mouth. "Don't want you drawing any un-needed attention." He stated, shoving him the rest of the way in, shutting and locking the gate with a click of the keys. 

The two men in the opposite cell, stood avidly watching all that was going on. When one of them said, "Your Hannibal Heyes, I saw you in the courtroom." 

Heyes' dimples popped into place and Kid rolled his eyes, always amazed how much his partner enjoyed the attention. 

"You should be hung, you skunk! What kind of low, vermin kills his own partner, especially a man the likes of Kid Curry."

This time it was Kid who smiled and stepping forward said, "Being as I am Kid Curry, I'd appreciate you not speaking to my partner that way."

The man's round face fell slack, "Is you really?"

The other man grabbed hold of the bars with his grubby hands, "Prove it."

"What...you want me to shoot you?"

They both fell back, one of them gulping out, "Hell, no."

Kid's boyish grin appeared and plucking his Colt from the back of Heyes' pant line with his left hand. He border passed it with the gun he had been using. Then spinning his own Colt twice more, he dropped it in the holster and popped it right back out in to firing position, before putting it away for real. 

"By God, you have to be him." the first one said. 

Kid tipped his hat.

"Come on show off." Heyes mumbled, starting for the block door.

"Heyes, hey, Heyes let us out." the second one called. 

"Sorry, can't be doing that," Heyes answered, hurrying his step.

"Kid?" the first called. "You wouldn't leave us here would you?"

"What are you in for?"

"They say we got a bit too rowdy." 

"Well, you'll be out soon enough." Kid replied, stopping at the block door, he leaned against the frame. "Side, you leave with us, you would be in a world of trouble. Wouldn't want that for you." Smiling his boyish grin, he tipped his hat and shut the block door. 

Going to the desk, Kid rummaged around in it until he found the stub of a pencil. From the wall, he tore down their posters. On his own, he scribbled, 'please tell Judge Cooper, my partner is too honest to shoot anyone in the back and that I am still alive and shooting. Jedediah Kid Curry.'

Heyes shook his head as he watched his pal, "you ready?" 

"Yup." Kid stood, pulling his gloves on. 

Taking up the can of kerosene by the wall, "then grab that box of matches off the ledge."

The box rattled as Kid snagged it, but not a word was passed between the two of them as they walked out the door, shutting it behind them. Heyes looked up and down the empty street. "This sure is a nice, quiet place, too bad we were recognized. Would have enjoyed holing up here for a while."

"Way it always goes for us." Kid mumbled, stepping off the boardwalk into the alley that lead back to their horses. 

The moon was a bright crescent in the sky, its light hardly illuminating the back of the jail. Untying his horse, Heyes traded Kid his reins for the box of matches. 

"You sure this is a good idea?"

Heyes only looked to the gallows. Placing a foot on the first step, he licked his lips and took each step slowly, watching them as if they might rear up and bite him at any minute. Pulling the lid from the kerosene can, he set to pouring it all over the deck. 

Kid asked, "which way we leaving?"

"Through the center of town." Heyes pointed north, "Sheriff Carter's place is that way." Backing down the stairs, he trailed the strong smelling liquid after him, before tossing the can aside. Opening the box of matches, he stuck three in the corner of his mouth and laid the box on a step. Striking one of the matches, he tossed it in the box. 

It spluttered and went out.

Frowning, he struck a second, tossing it in.

The box hissed, the other matches igniting, the kerosene caught and orange, blue fire expanded, leaping up the steps. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Heyes tossed the last match toward the rising flames. He could feel the heat on his face, the wood was snapping and behind the horses pawed snorting. But, he remained frozen mesmerized by the way the fire crept up the wooded structure, devouring the death Shelby had built for him. Turning it all into nothing more than a thick, black column of smoke. 

"Come on, Heyes."

Jerking from his trance, Heyes ran over laughing and leaping on his gelding, they raced for Main Street, where the two of them hollered, "Fire. Fire." 

All throughout Shelby, doors slammed open, excited voices filling the night. And, pulling up in front of the Sheriff's house, Heyes and Curry met the man at his yard gate, still pulling on clothes. 

"Hey, Sheriff Carter." Heyes called jovially, tipping his hat back. "Just wanted to stop by to say, I enjoyed visiting your lil' town. But, Kid here." He jabbed a thumb toward his pal and Kid nodded a hello. "Was missing me, so it's time for me to head on my way."

"What! You!" Sheriff Carter blustered, his wide eyes darting from one brazen outlaw to the other. 

The pair of them laughed, touched their hats, and laid heels to their horses haunches took off. 

"If you got any common sense you won't come within a hundred miles of my town, Hannibal Heyes." Eli Carter bellowed, running out into the street. "That goes for you too, Curry." 

Over the pounding hooves, Kid yelled, "suppose we should put his name on the list of lawmen to avoid."

Laughing, Heyes yelled back, "Might be smart to do so."

 

The end.....well, at least of this adventure.


End file.
